teachers pet
by cressey
Summary: "I have been called many things in my life Miss Granger but I can assure you"daft" isn't one of them," Minerva's eyes were ablaze and Hermione at least had the decency to look embarrassed with herself as she swallowed hard.


**Just a one shot. I like these two in most relationships, but i always see Minerva as the teacher 1st. This isn't a romantic story, just one of friendship and comfort, with a hint of something. all i ask is you give it a chance.**

**Disclaimer, i own nothing earn nothing, and get nothing for writing this... other than a headache because i can't find my glasses.**

**enjoy**

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><p>Hermione was laid back on an Emerald green sofa. Her practical shoes lay on the floor, her knees in the air, her right leg crossed over her left knee, her right foot tapping away to a silent tune. She chewed her bottom lip, her brown eyes concentrated, moving rapidly across the pages of a thick book.<p>

The silence was broken every once in a while by her clearing her throat, grumbling about the stupidity of the characters, and the turning of pages. The portrait hole opened up and in stepped a furious looking Minerva McGonagall. Her expression faltered and fell as she noticed the teenager lounging on her sofa. She had never known the young woman to be so rude and presumptuous. What made the girl think she could just break into her office and laze about on her sofa?

"Miss Granger, there had better be a good reason for you breaking into my office," The older woman with gentle wrinkles around her eyes and mouth says. She looks ever so stern as she looks at the wild haired young woman. Hermione looked up, seeing her upside down headmistress before she righted her head and looked back at her page.

"The castle is full of people, and these people keep trying to talk to me. I don't understand why everyone feels the need to talk. So I came here, because nobody can bug me here." The young woman replies to the question, causing disbelief to mar Minerva's face. She silently shook her head, not knowing how to deal with the young woman. She wasn't exactly harming anyone. Hermione was struggling with the recent fame the trio had acquired. Ron loved every second of it, Harry had taken to hiding on the rooftops with his broom and Hermione, it seemed, had taken to hiding in her favourite professors office... how unprofessional. Minerva gave another shake of her head as she walked across her office to the door that lead to her private rooms. She shut the door behind her and sighed in relief when she found the room completely devoid of students.

4 hours later, saw Minerva looking up from her marking as Hermione sat up and closed her book. The girl remained silent as she set the thick tomb down on the coffee table and clenched her shaking left hand.

"Are you ok child?" Minerva's voice, as per usual with Hermione was soft and caring as she watched the young brunette nod her head. The older woman was weary as she eyed the tremors in the girl's hand. It was a nervous shake, born of fear in the presence of torture. The young woman never mentioned anything of what they went through in the war, to which most people were grateful for. People had lived through the war not knowing what the trio knew intimately. "How's your schoolwork going?" Minerva changed the subject, hoping to spark some of the old enthusiasm the girl once held. There was nothing but a dull blank look in the young brunette's eyes.

"It's fine," Hermione answered as she got to her feet and stretched. She didn't want to look into her professor's worried eyes. She hadn't come to talk about it. She'd come to get away from the talking. She knew that she would talk to Minerva though. The woman had been her rock since she'd caught her after the final battle.

"Just fine?" The old teacher asked. Her many years knew evasion, and that was exactly what Hermione was trying to pull.

"It's just schoolwork Professor," The young woman states as she slips into her flat black shoes and heads towards the door. She stops, thinking better of it, and turns back to the woman's tender gaze. The dark bags under Hermione's eyes made her look so many years older than she actually was. It made the older witch wish she could take it all away. The children should have never been the ones to suffer in a war born of a monsters hate. "Before," Hermione starts as she takes the chair in front of Minerva's desk. "I was just trying to prove that I deserved to be here; that I was good enough. I thought that if I was the smartest, I would be accepted," Her voice is low, and although Minerva wants to interrupt and tell her that she was always accepted, she remains silent and lets the girl go on. "It was so childish of me. I always tried to impress _you_, thinking it would mean I had earned my place here. So I studied and studied, and I was still just the Mudblood. When it all really mattered, all the magic and spells I had didn't matter because without my wand none of it meant anything. She took it from me, and then she tried taking my mind. It was all I had left after the third night. She took _everything _else," The brunette whispered and Minerva swallowed thickly, wondering if _everything_ meant what she thought it did. "She tortured every corner of it, turning some of my most innocent memories into sordid stains in my mind. I barely sleep because I'm scared of waking the other girls with my screams," The girl grimaced as the teacher's eyes well up with unshed tears. "So all in all, my studies are fine... I am the smartest witch of the age, no doubt... they don't mean anything to me anymore. I'm done proving myself." She swallows down the pain and anger that she has stored up in her chest and looks at her teacher. She truly looks at her. She sees the old wise eyes of a woman that had seen far too much bloodshed in her life. In her eyes was a mirror that reflected the youngster's own pain.

"I can't imagine, or begin to contemplate what you have been through Hermione. Wars aren't meant to be fought by children. I wish that they didn't happen at all, to anyone... I have to tell you though, that you were always accepted here. All of your teachers, including Snape," the woman's eyes flickered to the potion masters portrait that Potter had put up himself, "every single one of us was and are still so proud of you." The aged woman rose to her feet (slowly, Hermione noted) and walked surely to an old cabinet. From it she pulled a vile of dreamless sleep drought and gave it to the girl.

XxXxXxX

It became a regular occurrence in the older witches' day. She would get to her office to find the young woman either reading or sleeping fitfully on her sofa. There were a few instances where she had looked up from her paperwork to find the young woman on her floor with an adorable look of utter confusion on her face after rolling herself off of the emerald green couch. The girl avoided the other students, barring herself behind mountains of books whilst hiding in the office. She would talk for hours with the portraits. Memories of the old headmasters would tell her stories from their time and she would listen avidly.

Professor Flitwick had entered the office one afternoon to discuss school matters with the headmistress, and found her writing reply letters to the ministry whilst the young girl slept fitfully on the sofa. The girl's head was rested on a closed book as though it was a pillow, her brown ringlets cascaded down off the side of the sofa just reaching the floor. The short man had looked Minerva in the eye and informed her that getting a cat would come with less emotional baggage. She had replied that a cat couldn't have an intelligent conversation with her for half the afternoon. He'd put forward that maybe it wasn't in her best interest to let a student rely emotionally on her, to which her eyes softened and she sighed. She told him that the girl had nobody else to go to.

"And when she leaves here? Minerva she'll be forced to give up the only thing that's keeping her head above water. She needs to learn to deal with these things on her own. You're not going to be there for her when she leaves." His voice was soft in genuine concern for his friend, and the young girl. When he left, Minerva had sat and watched the young girl now sleeping peacefully away. She knew it wasn't healthy for the girl to hide away from the world, and to use Minerva to do it.

It was a slow transition. The boys finally got over their own short sighted issues and started to pay more attention to the fact that their best friend was in pain. Months passed and Minerva started seeing less and less of the brunette in her office and more of her with the lads, in the great hall, roaming the corridors, running rings around Hagrid on the grounds. Filch had hauled them into her office so many times during their last 5 months of their final year, but Minerva couldn't be angry with them. Not when she saw the spark back in the girl's eyes. Once or twice a month she would still find the young girl on her sofa. It really was like having a cat; wandering off for days on end, but always making her way back home.

Minerva's thought process died in a flaming wreck as that last one exploded on her. She looked down at the 18 year old who was curled up, breathing softly as she snoozed.

"Miss Granger," Minerva's voice was slightly raised and stern. The young woman sat bolt upright, looking like a deer caught in headlights before she remembered where she was. A grin started to spread on her face, but the look Minerva was giving her stopped it. "I thought you'd grown out of breaking into my office for a nap." She said and Hermione's grin finished spreading.

"I needed a place to hide. Ron asked me to be his girlfriend and he doesn't seem to understand the concept of _no_," she replies and Minerva falters.

"You said no? I thought the two of you were already an item,"

"Pfft, don't be daft,"

"I have been called many things in my life Miss Granger but I can assure you _daft_ isn't one of them," Minerva's eyes were ablaze and Hermione at least had the decency to look embarrassed with herself as she swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I just don't understand why people would think I want that life. Do I look like Molly? Do I come across as the type that would stay at home cleaning and tidying, raising numerous children and cooking?" She asks and Minerva shakes her head.

"I don't suppose you do, no."

"I just don't think he's the one for me. I could have a more intelligent conversation with a cat," Hermione's grin has turned knowing and Minerva's shocked expression told her she remembered the conversation she'd had with Flitwick. "You get to be a really light sleeper after living on the run like Harry Ron and I did." She whispers as an explanation as she gets to her feet. She steps towards the older woman, with her wrinkled expression as she thanks her. "I don't think I could have done it by myself, I needed that little push in the right direction, thank you," Her voice is soft and warm as she pushes up onto her tiptoes and places a single chaste kiss to the corner of Minerva's mouth. Hitting enough cheek for it to be innocent, but catching enough lip for the older witch to know there was intention behind it. There was a soft smile on Hermione's face as she lingered momentarily, before walking out of the office. The next day Hermione's year left Hogwarts for the last time as students. They had been released into the world, and they would do just fine.


End file.
